Draco Malfoy Meets the Dursleys
by Atuanyaunexpected
Summary: SLASH. Pairing HarryDraco, hints of HermioneRon. Features Wannabe!Goth!Draco, Angry!Harry, Annoying!Repressed!Homosexual!Dudley, a promise, and a very chaotic summer. Genres: Romance and Humor with a pinch of angst. Established relationship, but it explai
1. Draco and His Big Mouth

Atuanya- AtuanyaUnexpected@yahoo.com  
  
Pairing- Harry/Draco  
  
Rating- G, for this chapter. Later chapters will be PG 13 or R  
  
Notes- This is extremely cute and fluffy, and short. Sorry. The remainder of the fic will retain the fluffiness, but it'll be more realistic. Established relationship, but don't worry, later chapters will explain how the relationship is established.  
  
Disclaimer- J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and all of these characters and settings. I'm just playing with them and I'm not making any money for it.  
  
Feedback- Email me!  
  
Chapter 1- Draco and his Big Mouth  
  
It was a promise whispered late at night during one of those moments when anything seems possible. Draco was snuggled under Gryffindor blankets with his Gryffindor boyfriend in Gryffindor tower, listening to said boyfriend complain about his muggle relatives.   
  
"For someone who loves muggles so much, he has an awful lot to say about these ones," thought Draco. When Harry talked with audible bitterness about the neglect he felt, however, Draco wanted to make it better and nothing else mattered.  
  
"I'm going with you this summer," said Draco, putting his arms around Harry, "and I'll teach those bloody muggles how to treat my Harry."  
  
"Really Draco?" asked Harry, his green eyes large.  
  
"Christ, I'll do anything for him," thought Draco, glancing at Harry and answering with little hesitation, "I'm going with you, I promise."  
  
Draco was glad to see the simultaneous relief and excitement on his boyfriend's face. It was usually Harry who did the promising. He'd hold Draco close and whisper, "I won't let your father get you, Draco, you don't have to worry." And true to his word, Harry had held Draco under his invisibility cloak when Lucius had stormed into the castle to take his son. So if Harry actually expected Draco to come through on this promise, he could do it, right? 


	2. Draco Sees a Red Door and He Wants to Pa...

Atuanya- AtuanyaUnexpected@yahoo.com  
  
Pairing- Harry/Draco  
  
Rating- PG 13 for language and ahem, sexual references.  
  
Notes- I'd say that this chapter was written solely for my amusement, but it does offer some insight to Harry and Draco's relationship. And stuff. Features Wannabe!Goth!Draco and Angsty!Harry. It's a lot longer than chapter 1.  
  
Disclaimer- J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and all of these characters and settings. I'm just playing with them and I'm not making any money for it. Also, The Rolling Stones wrote "Paint it Black," which I refer to in the title of this chapter.  
  
Feedback- Email me!  
  
Chapter 2- Draco sees a Red Door and He Wants to Paint it Black  
  
"Malfoy," Harry said, frustrated, "You. Have. No. Muggle. Clothes." Harry was standing by Draco's bed, trying to pack his trunk for his summer trip to the Dursleys.  
  
"Yes I do," said Draco indignantly, looking up from where he sat cross-legged on the bed. "I have eight school uniforms."  
  
"You can't wear these in Surrey, they say 'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry' on the crest," said Harry. "What do you wear at home?"  
  
"My uniform," said Draco, and, noticing Harry's odd stare, "we like to keep up a certain standard of appearance at The Manor. Not that you'd know anything about that, Potter. What do you wear at home? Rags?"   
  
Harry flushed a little, angered by the comment. Though the boys had been together for most of their sixth year at Hogwarts, their relationship had changed surprisingly little in the transition from friends to lovers. They teased and annoyed each other constantly, and in moments of irritation called the other by his last name. Harry knew, however, that, having had a dresscode at home, Draco was obviously never a normal child, and he ignored his agitation and turned back to Draco's trunk.  
  
"I've never seen these before," grinned Harry, holding up a pair of silky black boxers. "Why?"  
  
"Honestly, Potter. They're kind of tacky, don't you think?" Draco scoffed at the boxers, but his ears were tinged pink. "Shake them out a bit," he said. Harry did, and as soon as the material moved a green and silver dragon print appeared. "See?" said Draco. "I'm sure that even you can tell how distasteful they are."  
  
"Actually, I think they're sexy," said Harry. "Where'd you get them?" Draco grew pinker.  
  
"Some first year sent them on Valentine's day last year, a secret admirer type of thing."  
  
"A secret admirer?" said Harry.  
  
"Yes, and naturally, with this body, I have many," said Draco.  
  
"I'm sure," said Harry, climbing onto the bed to kiss him. Draco reclined, pulling Harry on top of him.  
  
"You know, Draco," said Harry between kisses,"We're going to need to get you some new clothes."   
  
"We'll get you some new ones too," he replied, reaching for the zipper on Harry's oversized jeans.  
  
---  
  
Draco woke early the next Saturday morning to the sound of Harry up and moving around. Sunlight hit his face. "Bloody Gryffindor tower sun," he mumbled. Draco wished that Harry would sleep down in the Slytherin dungeons once in a while, but Harry was right when he said that the Gryffindor would be a little more accepting of their relationship. A little more.  
  
"Will you two shut the fuck up?" Ron hissed grumpily from behind his bed curtain. "I really don't want to know what you two are. . . doing."  
  
"We're just getting ready to go to Diagon Alley, Ron, don't be ridiculous," said Harry, peeking into Ron's bed.   
  
"We are?" asked Draco. Harry ignored him and continued to talk to Ron.   
  
"Draco needs some clothes for this summer, so we'll go in to muggle London, too. You want to come? you might find something interesting for your dad," he said.  
  
"No Thanks. It's bloody early, and I don't feel the need to go clothes shopping with. . . you two," came Ron's reply.   
  
"What did he mean by that?!" said Draco angrily, pulling on a pair of Harry's jeans, which were long enough for him despite the fact that he was several inches taller.  
  
"Nothing, Draco," said Harry, pulling Draco by the arm as soon as he was dressed. "See you Ron."  
  
Draco followed Harry down to the common room, mumbling something about stupid weasel and stupid stereotypes. Hermione was curled up in an armchair, staring at her transfiguration textbook with bleary eyes.   
  
"What are you doing up so early?" she asked.  
  
"Going out. What are _you_ doing up so early?" said Harry.  
  
"You mean so late. I haven't been to bed yet," she said. "You haven't forgotten that Professor McGonogall has scheduled an exam for Monday, have you? You should study instead of sneaking out. Your marks haven't been the best lately." Harry drew in a breath, annoyed.  
  
"Will you just. . . bugger off, Hermione? Goddamn it! Not everyone wants to study their arses off all the time," Harry snapped suddenly. Hermione looked hurt and Harry's expression softened.  
  
"I'm sorry Hermione. Do you want to come with us? I'm sure you could use a break from studying. . ."  
  
"No," she cut him off, "I'm just going to go up to bed."  
  
"Alright," said Harry, sounding sad. "Good idea. Sleep well." Hermione, however, was already going up the stairs to the girls' dormitories, and didn't answer him.  
  
Harry sighed and slumped his shoulders and Draco took his hand and squeezed. He knew that things had been strained between Harry and his best friends lately-- since the final battle with Voldemort, if one could even call it that. And just when everyone had begun to accept Harry's attitude and generally angsty behavior, he'd announced that he was shagging Draco Malfoy and he didn't care what any of them thought anymore. Draco smirked, remembering their reactions. Harry's friends didn't like him at all.   
  
"They'll come around eventually, Harry," said Draco soothingly. Then under his breath he muttered, "or I'll make them."  
  
"What was that?" said Harry, taking a handful of Floo Powder.  
  
"Oh. I, um, I said, 'Let's take ten'?" stuttered Draco. Harry raised an eyebrow.  
  
"We can't Draco, the others will be up soon and they'll want to know where we're going and all that. If you really need to stop and rest, can't it wait until we're in Diagon Alley, at least?"  
  
"Yes, sure. Let's just go," said Draco quickly. Harry threw the Floo Powder on the fire and the boys crowded in.  
  
"Diagon Alley," they said simultaneously, and landed in The Leaky Cauldron. After coughing and brushing off their robes, they looked around.  
  
"Harry Potter!" shouted Tom, the bartender. "How nice to see you! . . . and, erm, Hello, Mister Malfoy." The patrons of the bar greeted Harry with a similar enthusiasm and ignored Draco.   
  
"Tell us how you killed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" someone called.   
  
"Did he struggle, Harry?" shouted another overly-enthusiastic bar patron.  
  
"Got a girlfriend, yet, boy?" a tall wizard asked.  
  
"He's gay," someone whispered, and some giggles and whoops rose from the crowd.  
  
"That's alright, he killed the Dark Lord!" shouted a witch, and several people cheered.  
  
"Hullo, Tom," said Harry, shrinking back from all the attention. Draco, in contrast, straightened his shoulders to his full height and sneered.   
  
"We need to change some of our currency to muggle," he said, placing a stack of galleons on the counter in front of Tom. Harry followed and did the same. "Why don't you all let Harry have some peace and leave him alone? He's a human being, not your perfect bloody little tragic hero." Some people coughed, and they began to whisper. They were clearly offended.  
  
"Alright gentlemen," said Tom, sounding significantly less friendly. "Here you are."  
  
As Harry and Draco walked towards the back of the bar to enter muggle London, an elderly man could be heard saying, "Snotty little ponces, aren't they? Hero of the wizarding world my arse. We don't even _know_ if he killed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."   
  
They both managed to hold their tempers until they got outside.  
  
"Those fucking idiots," said Draco. "They don't know you or me. They couldn't just leave you alone for ten fucking minutes." Draco looked over at Harry, who was shaking with rage.  
  
"He said I didn't kill Voldemort," he said, sounding very menacing. "Doesn't he know what I WENT THROUGH?! If it weren't for me he and his drinking buddies might be DEAD right about now. They only want the fucking story from me so they can sensationalize it and make me tell it over and over again, their little hero! Do they think I want to relive that? When I killed Voldemort and Bellatrix and Nott I didn't feel like such a fucking hero, Draco. I felt more like a murderer."  
  
By this time Draco had taken the shorter boy into his arms and was trying to calm him down.   
  
"Get a room!" someone shouted across the street.  
  
"You get one!" Draco called back. Harry snorted and began to laugh despite his anger.  
  
"Malfoy, you just told that guy to get a room," he laughed. "That was smart." Draco blushed a bit and let go of Harry, but then he began to laugh too.  
  
He suddenly stopped and stared at a teenage boy walking down the street towards them.  
  
"Harry," he said, "I want to look like that guy!"  
  
Harry looked up at the young man approaching them and gaped. His hair was a shaggy combination of bright red and black, he sported black nail varnish and eyeliner, and a black outfit including spikes and straps and chains.   
  
Before Harry could say, "My aunt and uncle wouldn't let you under their roof," Draco had already asked the pierced boy where he'd bought his clothes and was dragging Harry towards the shop. When they arrived, Draco's eyes lit up with demonic glee. He grabbed nearly half of the clothes from one of the front display racks and bounded into a fitting room. While Draco was trying things on, Harry looked around in wonderment. He'd only seen people who dressed like this on television, and Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia only had bad things to say about them.  
  
When Draco finally came out of the dressing room, Harry's jaw dropped.  
  
"You look. . . my Aunt and Uncle, we'll have a hard enough time convincing them to let you stay. . . but you look. . . dear lord, Malfoy, you look sexy."  
  
"Of course I do," Draco drawled, smirking, "I don't have to wear it in front of your aunt and uncle, do I?"   
  
Harry blushed.  
  
A few minutes later, the boys left the store, Draco lugging a large bag by his side. They went to a mens' clothing store nearby, where Draco's choices tended to be stylish form-fitting short-sleeved shirts and dressy pants, and Harry's choices were. . . baggy.  
  
"No sense of style Potter," said Draco, as they walked back to The Leaky Cauldron. "It's a good thing I bought you some things at that first store." 


	3. He Actually Expected Him to Go Through W...

Atuanya- AtuanyaUnexpected@yahoo.com  
  
Pairing- Harry/Draco  
  
Rating- R for language and smut.  
  
Notes- Thanks for the reviews, everyone. This chapter contains some stuff. It also contains Hermione/Ron pairing, but DON'T WORRY, they're not the main focus. I gave some more insight to Harry's situation. I really hope you like this chapter, especially the end part on the train. Awwww.   
  
Disclaimer- J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and all of these characters and settings. I'm just playing with them and I'm not making any money for it.  
  
Feedback- Email me!  
  
Chapter Three- He Actually Expected Him to Go Through With it  
  
  
  
It was a windy Friday evening in early June, and Harry and Draco's sixth year at Hogwarts was ending. The Great Hall was crowded with students buzzing about their plans for the upcoming summer holidays. Draco, however, who sat alone at one end of the Slytherin table, was not so sure if he'd be enjoying this summer. Harry _did_ actually expect him to face the Dursley's with him, and Draco was worried. He looked across the Great Hall at his boyfriend and sighed. Of course he cared about Harry and wanted to spend the summer with him and all that, but he really _didn't_ want to spend the summer with a family of infamously unkind muggles. It wasn't as if Draco lacked experience with infamously unkind people or anything, but muggles? Draco knew that that meant no house elves, no nighttime broomstick rides, and probably chores around the house. Worst of all, Draco wasn't even sure if he'd be able to shag Harry with those damn muggles in the house. And _that_ would be torture. Just then, Harry looked up to see Draco staring at him and winked. Draco Smiled weakly.  
  
"Ahem," said Dumbledore, standing up at the head table. "If I could have your attention, please. I need to announce the winning houses. This has been a very special year, and it's difficult to see it come to an end. The wizarding world is, quite thankfully, once again at peace," he paused and smiled at Harry, "and the unity between the houses has reached an amazing high. The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs did a wonderful job planning the Yule Ball in December, and the Ravenclaws and Slytherins showed wonderful teamwork in planning tonight's feast. All of the houses pulled together remarkably many times during the school year. I want to thank you all for making our new Defense Against The Dark Arts professor, Nymphadora Tonks, feel welcome. And all of the houses worked together wonderfully to keep the school clean during Mr. Filch's absence in January. That does not mean, however, that friendly house rivalry has ceased to exist. Congratulations to Gryffindor for once again winning the Quidditch cup-" cheers and boos filled the hall; Harry grinned at Draco, who glared back- "and of course, to Slytherin, for winning the House Cup!" This time it was Draco's turn to grin. "I would like to see Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy in my office after dinner." The students laughed and whooped, and someone who Draco suspected was Harry's ex-girlfriend Cho shouted out, "Snogging in the halls again?"   
  
When things had quieted down, Draco looked at Harry questioningly. He just shrugged. That was no help. Draco ate quickly, nervous about what Dumbledore might have to say to them. When Harry and Draco stood outside the office after dinner, they both fidgeted nervously until Dumbledore let them in, smiling warmly.   
  
"Sit down, gentlemen. Have a lemon drop, they're on my desk," he said. Draco helped himself to one of the sweets and sat on a fluffy blue armchair, but Harry just stood in stony silence.  
  
"Sit next to me, Harry," said Draco. Harry sat down and crossed his arms, but he still didn't speak.  
  
"If I may say so," said Dumbledore, sitting down behind his desk and noting Draco's spikey black attire, "I very much like that outfit, Mr. Malfoy."  
  
"Thank you, Professor," said Draco.  
  
"I'm not sure that the Dursleys will like it so much, though," Dumbledore said.  
  
Draco choked on his lemon drop, and Harry's eyes grew very large.  
  
"You. . . you knew about. . . you knew he was coming home with me this summer?" Harry sputtered.  
  
"If he didn't, he does now," muttered Draco.  
  
"Where else would he go, Mr. Potter?" asked Dumbledore. "Unless you got your own home? I hadn't heard if you had."   
  
Nowhere to go. Draco considered this, and it was true. His mother had passed away the previous summer, and though Lucius had been in Azkaban since the day he'd broken into Hogwarts, he was still the owner of Malfoy Manor and Draco was certain that he wouldn't stand for him being there.  
  
"No," he said, "you're right. I'm going to Surrey with Harry."  
  
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," said Dumbledore. There was an uncomfortable silence as the three people studied one another.   
  
"It's none of your business what your students do over the summer, Professor," Harry began defensively, "and Draco _is_ going to. . ."   
  
"Don't worry, Mr. Potter, I just wanted to help you!" said Dumbledore, putting up his hands in defense. "I'd hate to see one of my students with nowhere to go, and I feel that it is my responsibility to make sure that such a thing does not happen. If you need help convincing the Dursleys to take him in, I can. . ."  
  
"We won't be needing your help, Professor," said Harry briskly, getting up to leave. "We can manage on our own quite nicely, I'm sure." He took Draco's hand and marched towards the exit.  
  
Draco glanced at Dumbledore apologetically as they walked out the door.  
  
"Bloody hell, even I thought that was cold, and this is _me_ talking," said Draco when they'd reached the Entrance Hall. Harry glared at him. "He was just trying to help us," Draco continued.  
  
"I don't care, he's just another one of _them_," said Harry bitterly. "Trying to get me to step into the spotlight so that we can take the glory for killing Voldemort," said Harry, "We. Meaning the Order. That's all he wants, credit. . ."  
  
"I'm the first to admit that Dumbledore's a complete lunatic, Harry, really. I mean, he probably knows that we're shagging, and any decent headmaster wouldn't approve. . .But anyway, I doubt that he wanted to claim glory or whatever it was that you said. The man cares about you. He wanted to give you house points. . ."  
  
"House points!" Harry interrupted, sounding somewhat insane. "Yes, house points! That's why I killed Voldemort! I wasn't avenging the murder of my parents or preventing more killings, no! I just wanted some fucking HOUSE POINTS!"  
  
Harry wasn't making much sense, but Draco knew that there would be no talking him down in this state. So he held Harry and interrupted his tirade with a long, sweet kiss.  
  
"Let's go to bed, alright?" he said, and Harry gratefully followed.  
  
---  
  
Since it was still early, Harry and Draco expected the dorms to be empty when they got up there. So when they stumbled into the room, Draco attatched Harry's neck and Harry attempting to undo Draco's pants, they were surprised to hear noises. They stopped their frantic actions abruptly and looked around. A strange moaning sound came from Ron's bed followed by heavy breathing.  
  
"Is the weasel getting himself off or something?" drawled Draco, sounding bored. "I don't really want to hear that, can't we put a silencing charm on his bed?"  
  
"He might be having a nightmare or something," said Harry. "Maybe I should, erm, wake him up." He sneaked towards Ron's bed.   
  
Just as he was about to open the curtain, someone shouted, "You were right, Ron, this is better than studying! Oh lord!"  
  
Harry backed away from the bed very quickly, and Draco couldn't decide if he looked frightened or disgusted.  
  
"Silencio!" said Harry, pointing his wand at Ron's bed. He quickly retreated behind his own bed curtains. Draco followed, smirking.  
  
"Won't-" he said, but Harry cut him off.  
  
"Yeah, I know Malfoy, my best friends are shagging and you probably think it's really funny but I just think it's gross, so-"  
  
"I was just going to say, Harry. . . Won't _we_ be needing a silencing charm as well?" Draco drawled. Harry grinned broadly and put the charm on the bed.  
  
"Good," the dark-haired boy said, "because I need a good blow job right about now."  
  
Draco laughed and pinned Harry to the bed, kissing him passionately. He paused and sat up, taking off his shirt.  
  
"Look what I wore for you," he said, smiling wickedly. He took off his pants to reveal the silky dragon boxers that Harry had interrogated him about. Harry stared for a moment.  
  
"You were right, actually," said Harry. "They're tacky. You should take them off."  
  
"Damn you, Potter," said Draco, but he quickly removed the offending shorts. "While we're getting rid of awful clothes, how about we get rid of yours?"  
  
Just when Draco had taken off Harry's shirt, Harry sat up and planted a kiss on Draco's hip bone, eliciting a gasp from him. Harry continued to kiss and lick Draco's lower stomach while he moved his hands up Draco's inner thighs, using his thumbs to put pressure on them. When he finally reached Draco's balls, he looked up.  
  
"You're fucking sexy, Malfoy," he said. His grabbed Draco's cock in his hands and began to stroke along the length of his shaft.  
  
"Please. don't. stop," Draco said, gasping for air. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the feeling of his muscles tensing. "Faster," he choked, humping Harry's hands. As Harry began to stroke him harder, he felt his whole body go unbearably rigid. His breath hitched. "Oh Fuck. Harry," he cried at the release. He came on Harry's chest and then fell on top of him, panting.  
  
"Nice work," he said upon catching his breath. He grinned and opened his eyes. Harry smiled back.  
  
"Now, about that blow job," said Draco, sliding under the sheets.  
  
---  
  
Draco took his seat next to a very tired looking Harry on the Hogwarts Express the next day. He and Hermione and Ron had just returned from a meeting in the prefect's compartment.  
  
"I brought you a chocolate frog," he said, handing the sweet to Harry.  
  
"Thanks," Harry said, kissing Draco on the cheek.  
  
"Did you have a nap?" asked Draco. Harry yawned and nodded. "No wonder you're tired. After last night, I'm pretty exhausted myself."  
  
"I could've done without that knowledge, thanks," grumped Ron, who was sitting across the compartment with his arm around Hermione. The rest of the people in the compartment seemed to agree. Draco looked around in disgust. He wasn't friends with anyone there. Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, that crazy Lovegood girl. . . but, he supposed, he'd rather leave a sleeping Harry alone with these people than with Crabbe and Goyle.  
  
"You could be a bit less obvious yourself, Weasel," Draco muttered.  
  
"What was that, Malfoy?" said Ron.  
  
Um, I said, 'Your trunk is falling off that shelf, Weasley,'" said Draco. Ron looked up for a moment, confused. Then he turned back to Draco and narrowed his eyes.  
  
"My trunk isn't on a shelf," he said.  
  
"Oh, well, my mistake then," said Draco.  
  
"No, I don't think that's what you said," said Ron, raising his voice. "What did you say, Malfoy?"  
  
"Don't worry about it, Ron," said Hermione, patting Ron's arm in attempt to calm him down.  
  
"I know what I said, Weasel, don't challenge me," Draco said, turning pink.  
  
"Name-calling, Malfoy? Don't you think it's time we grew up?" shouted Ron.  
  
"I'll call you whatever I want, you plebeian, second-hand clothing wearing, stupid. . ."  
  
"DRACO!" said Harry, looking up. "Why don't you tell us about the time you outflew a helicopter on your Nimbus 2001?  
  
"Oh, yes," said Draco, smiling. "I was practicing to see how high I could fly, and this helicopter just came out of nowhere, flying straight towards me! Because of my amazing flying skills, I wasn't afraid, I just. . ."  
  
Draco didn't notice most of the people from the compartment leaving, or Hermione and Ron ignoring him to snog in a corner. He just continued to talk.  
  
Harry put his head on Draco's shoulder and drifted off to sleep, half listening to his Draco boast. 


	4. Number 4, Privet Drive

Atuanya- AtuanyaUnexpected@yahoo.com  
  
Pairing- Harry/Draco  
  
Rating- mild R. (oh no, they make out!) Oh yes, and language, again.   
  
Notes- I've been surprised to receive even more positive reviews. Thanks everyone. Repressed!Homosexual!Dudley is introduced this chapter, and he was useful, too. You're just a few chapters away from finding out how Harry and Draco got together, so keep reading over the next few days. Spoiled!Draco will continue to accidentally show his sweet side. Oh yeah, and wish me a happy birthday, I'm seventeen today!   
  
Disclaimer- J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and all of these characters and settings. I'm just playing with them and I'm not making any money for it.  
  
Feedback- Email me!  
  
Chapter 4- Number 4, Privet Drive  
  
Draco nudged Harry awake as the train rolled to a stop at King's Cross Station.   
  
"We're here," he said, handing Harry his glasses.  
  
"Thanks," Harry yawned. "Your hands are shaking. What's wrong? Nervous?"  
  
"Of course not, Potter. Why would I be scared of some stupid muggles? I'm just shaking because I'm cold."  
  
"Mmm hmm." said Harry. "It's rather warm today. I hope you're not getting sick."  
  
"I'm fine," Draco said impatiently. Harry squeezed his hand.  
  
"It'll be alright, Draco. I'll protect you from them and you'll protect me. We'll watch out for each other," said Harry.  
  
"I said I wasn't nervous," said Draco, but he squeezed Harry's hand harder.  
  
"Ready to go, Harry?" said Ron, picking up his trunk from the ground.  
  
"Yeah, just a minute," Harry replied. "Okay, Draco, we can't let them know that we're, erm, more than just friends, or they'll make me move back down to the cupboard," Draco looked at Harry oddly, but he continued. "Show off a little that you're rich, that'll make them respect you more. And, erm, be polite at first, so they don't throw you out. . ."  
  
"Please, I'm the king of good manners," Draco said.  
  
"I really mean it, Malfoy," said Harry. Draco glared at Harry, but didn't manage to hide his apprehension.  
  
"Harry?" he said quietly.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"What happens if they won't let me stay?"   
  
"Then we'll stay with the Weasley's," said Harry.  
  
Draco gaped. He knew that he and Harry _definitely_ wouldn't be able to have sex at the Weasley's house.  
  
"Yes, Draco," said Harry, pulling his trunk out onto the platform. "That's why you need to be polite." Draco got up quickly and followed very close behind Harry, looking upset.  
  
When Harry and Draco walked out onto platform 9 3/4, Draco scanned the crowd for people who might be Harry's muggles. No one _looked_ like Harry, at least.  
  
"Harry!" called a red haired woman fondly. "How are you, dear?"   
  
"This woman isn't Harry's aunt, is she?" thought Draco, before seeing Ron and Ginny roll their trunks up and hug her. "I see," thought Draco. "A Weasley."  
  
"I hear you won't be visiting this summer, Harry, why?" said Mrs. Weasley.  
  
"Ahem," coughed Ron. "He's got his own, erm, guest, Mum."  
  
Draco felt Mrs. Weasley's eyes scrutinizing him.  
  
"Oh. Well. I see," she said. "Have a nice summer, Harry, and. . . Draco."  
  
"See you," said Harry.  
  
As they walked away, Draco heard Mrs. Weasley screech, "_HE'S_ Harry's _BOYFRIEND_?!"  
  
Draco glanced over at Harry, whose face was scarlet.  
  
"Where are your aunt and uncle?" Draco asked.  
  
"Waiting in the station," said Harry. "They still don't know how to get to this platform."  
  
"Right," said Draco, straining to keep from dropping his trunk, "muggles."  
  
After crossing into the station, they walked for what seemed to Draco like a half an hour. Finally, Harry spotted his relatives.  
  
"There they are," he said, pointing to a group of three jittery looking people. "Come on."  
  
As they approached, Draco grew very nervous. Harry's uncle was intimidating, and his cousin was staring at him in an indecipherable way.  
  
"Who's this?" asked the uncle.  
  
"This is my, erm, friend, Draco Malfoy," said Harry. "Draco, this is my Uncle Vernon,"  
  
"Mr. Dursley, to you," said Vernon.  
  
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Dursley," said Draco, holding out his hand. Vernon just stared at it. Draco was very insulted, but the thought of having to live with the Weasleys for a summer allowed him to control his temper.  
  
"This is my Aunt Petunia," said Harry, gesturing to the skinny woman who had a look on her face like she smelled something horrible.  
  
"Charmed," said Draco.  
  
"And this," Harry said, turning towards his disgustingly obese cousin, "is Dudley, my cousin."  
  
"Erm, Hullo," Draco said.  
  
"Why, pray tell, is your little _friend_ here?" asked Vernon.  
  
"Well, he, erm, he. . ." Harry stammered.  
  
"It's time to turn on the patented Draco Malfoy Charm," thought Draco.  
  
"You see, Mr. Dursley," he said, shooting Vernon a Winning Smile, "My parents are spending the summer in France, and seeing as your nephew Harry is my best friend, we thought that I might be able to stay with you."  
  
Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley stared at Draco blankly. He stuck out his lower lip.  
  
"I want to stay at your house," he whined.  
  
"No!" boomed Vernon, turning red.  
  
"Why not?" said Harry.  
  
"We can't afford to have another person living with us," he said.  
  
"Believe me, I'll pay for myself," said Draco, pulling a stack of galleons out of his pocket.  
  
He was greeted once again with a blank stare from Harry's relatives.  
  
"Draco," Harry coughed. "Muggle money."  
  
"Oh, right," he muttered, putting the galleons back in his pocket and taking out his muggle currency.   
  
"I," he said, smiling anew, "will pay for myself."  
  
"Even so, we don't have the room," sniffed Petunia.  
  
"You know that's not true," said Harry. "He can share my room. I'll sleep on the floor."  
  
Vernon turned red, angry to be out of excuses.   
  
"I don't want your freaky friends living with us, and I have the right to make that decision!" he bellowed.  
  
Draco was becoming worried. What if Harry went with his aunt and uncle and just left him here? What would he do? Subtly, Harry stroked his hand, but he looked nervous as well.  
  
Suddenly, Dudley, who was still staring at Draco strangely, cleared his throat.  
  
"I want him to stay, mummy," he said.   
  
"But Diddums," said Petunia, "You don't want to make friends like that!"  
  
"I WANT HIM TO STAY!" yelled Dudley, stomping his foot.   
  
"Alright, Dudley, alright!" said Vernon. "Just be quiet! Let's go."  
  
---  
  
"Here's the kitchen," said Harry, showing Draco around number 4 Privet Drive, "and the lounge. . ."  
  
"Potter!" Vernon yelled. "Get your bloody owls out of the entranceway!"  
  
"Come on," said Harry, let's put our things away."  
  
"You mean no one will do it for us?" asked Draco, confused.  
  
"No, Draco," Harry said.  
  
"I will!" said Dudley, waddling up behind them. He picked up Draco's trunk and owl cage.  
  
"Thanks, Dudley," said Harry, surprised. He pushed his trunk towards his cousin, but Dudley just glared at him.  
  
"Oh, Alright then," said Harry.  
  
After the three had walked perhaps ten paces, Dudley announced that Draco's trunk was too heavy, and he set it down.  
  
Draco made a sort of whimpering noise and picked up his trunk. Harry put his into the cupboard under the stairs, and Draco did the same, with much effort.  
  
"I used to sleep here," said Harry. Draco just sniffled. "Erm, let's go put our owls up in our room," he said, picking up Hedwig's and Draco's Eagle Owl's cages.  
  
"Are you alright, Draco?" Harry said as soon as they got upstairs.  
  
"I don't like it here, Harry," he whimpered, throwing himself face down on the bed. "Your uncle is mean, and there aren't any house elves, and I think your cousin _fancies_ me!"   
  
"You're a spoiled little git, Malfoy," said Harry, but he lay down next to him, looking concerned.  
  
"I know," he said, turning towards Harry. "But I thought _you_ were supposed to keep me that way."  
  
Harry laughed and leaned in to kiss the whiney boy beside him, but he was interrupted.  
  
"They really made you sleep in that cupboard, Potter?" Draco asked.  
  
"Until I was almost eleven, yeah," said Harry. Draco frowned and stared into space for a moment, contemplative.  
  
"That's strange," he said, "I guess they and I must think quite differently."  
  
"What do you mean?" said Harry.  
  
"Well," said Draco, propping himself on his elbow so that he could look at Harry, "If you were to live in my house, a cupboard would be the last place I'd think to put you. I'd just be disappointed that I couldn't give you all the royal palaces in the world."  
  
"That has to be the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Draco," said Harry, looking very pleased.  
  
"It just sort of came out," said Draco, blushing pink. "I _would_ be able to afford a few palaces, at least, you know. . ."  
  
"Shut up, Malfoy, don't ruin the moment," Harry said, kissing Draco hard on the mouth. Draco reciprocated, parting his lips when he felt Harry's tongue run along them. He moaned and pressed his body up against Harry's, sliding his hands down to his boyfriend's arse. Things were getting very intense, when suddenly a horrible shouting sound interrupted them.  
  
"Boy!" called Harry's uncle. "Come down here and cook dinner!"   
  
Draco's erection quickly disappeared.  
  
"Cook dinner?" he said.  
  
"Yeah, I guess I'd better go do that," Harry said, standing up and attempting to flatten his hair. Draco sighed.  
  
"I'll come help you," said Draco, hoping that he wouldn't have to do anything. 


	5. Mummy Says That Only Bad Boys Like Other...

Atuanya- AtuanyaUnexpected@yahoo.com  
  
Pairing- Harry/Draco  
  
Rating- PG 13, maybe? WARNING: there's an OOTP spoiler, sort of.  
  
Notes- This chapter picks up right where the last left off. I hope that you find Insecure!Draco cute. I also hope that I didn't make him too OOC in this chapter. I didn't know if the British use the same word for "park." Can someone let me know? Thanks. Well, Happy New Year, and enjoy!  
  
Disclaimer- J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and all of these characters and settings. I'm just playing with them and I'm not making any money for it.  
  
Feedback- Email me!  
  
Chapter 5- Mummy Says That Only Bad Boys Like Other Boys  
  
Draco watched blankly as Harry cut up potatoes and put water on the stove to boil.   
  
"Thanks for your help, Draco," said Harry, smiling sarcastically. Draco was annoyed.  
  
"Tell me what to do and I'll do it," he said, half meaning it.  
  
"It's alright, Draco, I was kidding. I wasn't expecting you to help," Harry said soothingly. "Just keep me company."  
  
"I'm capable of much more than that, Potter!" Draco said indignantly. He walked over to the stove where the water was boiling, looking for something to do. He spotted an open cookbook on the counter and picked it up, a triumphant smirk on his face.   
  
"This looks like a set of potions directions," he thought. "I can do this."  
  
"I'm baking the biscuits, Harry," he said.  
  
Harry paused and stared at him for what seemed like a very long time.  
  
"Be careful," he said.  
  
Draco narrowed his eyes and began gathering the ingredients he'd need.   
  
"Didn't need my help," he muttered angrily. "I'll make the best damn biscuits he ever had."   
  
The boys set to work cooking, filling the kitchen with wonderful scents.  
  
---  
  
To Draco's dismay, he never found out if the biscuits he'd baked were the best damn biscuits Harry had ever eaten, because they didn't get to eat them. By the time the Dursleys had finished eating and cleared out of the kitchen so that Harry and Draco could eat, the biscuits were gone. Harry assured him, however, that they probably would've been the best.  
  
"I'm going to have a bath," said Harry when they'd finished eating.  
  
"Hmm," smiled Draco, stretching. "Sounds nice. Can I come too?"  
  
Harry bit his lip (which was very sexy, in Draco's opinion).  
  
"Don't you think that'd be a little. . . suspicious, Draco?" he said.  
  
Draco put on the patented Draco Malfoy Pout, but it seemed to have no effect on Harry.  
  
"Look, maybe later this summer, okay?" he said. "We just can't let them get suspicious yet."   
  
"Can I at least watch you get dressed when you're done?" Draco asked.  
  
"Well, it's not like I'll be putting on much, but sure," said Harry, kissing Draco on the forehead and strolling out of the kitchen.  
  
Draco sat for a moment and moped. This summer wasn't turning out well, and Harry _wasn't_ making it all better.  
  
Dudley walked into the kitchen, interrupting Draco's lamentations.  
  
"Hullo," he said, grinning broadly. "Do you want to be my friend?"  
  
Draco stared at him blankly.  
  
"I can tell that your one of _our_ type of people," said Dudley.  
  
"Your. . . type?" asked Draco.  
  
"Yeah. You could have better friends than Harry, you know," Dudley said. "You're a better type of person."  
  
Draco arched an eyebrow at the obese boy in front of him.  
  
"Better type of person than. . . _Harry_?" Draco sneered. "No, Durfley. . ."  
  
"Dudley," Dudley interrupted.  
  
"Whatever. I was saying, there isn't a better person than Harry, and I'm damn _lucky_ to have a friend like him," Draco said. "And you. . . _You_ are lucky that he'll even stand in the same _room_ as you. I won't be your friend, not ever. Get out of my sight. Oh, and if you think you're going to tell your parents what I said, just remember. . . _we_ know magic."  
  
Dudley's jaw dropped, and he scrambled from the room, frightened and dejected.  
  
Draco stormed from the kitchen, up to Harry's bedroom. He sat down on the bed and curled up with his knees up to his chest.  
  
"What a horrible git," Draco thought, frustrated at having to put up with Harry's cousin. What was really nagging him, however, was the fact that he'd had a very similar conversation before, with the roles reversed. The Hogwarts Express, first year. When Draco had attempted to befriend Harry, he sounded frighteningly like Dudley had just sounded in the kitchen.  
  
"In fact," thought Draco, "I'm a lot like that prat. Spoiled rotten, snotty, immature. What the fuck does Harry see in me, anyway?"   
  
This worried Draco even more, and threw him further into his insecure brooding.  
  
"What if he _doesn't_ see anything in me?" he worried. "What if I don't really mean anything and I'm just a fuck buddy to him? I _am_ rather attractive, after all," Draco smiled, but then his face fell again, "and I have a rather unlovable personality."  
  
Draco lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. His mind was reeling with insecurity. He loved Harry, he was sure of it, but he didn't know if Harry felt the same way. He'd never even heard Harry refer to him as his boyfriend. Draco would have no one if it weren't for Harry, but he wondered if he was any more than a disposable shag to The Boy-Who-Lived. He turned over and closed his eyes, trying to forget his greif.  
  
---  
  
When Harry came back into his bedroom after his bath (wearing only a towel, of course), Draco was sleeping peacefully.  
  
"Aww," said Harry quietly, taking off his towel and crawling under the covers. He put the blanket over Draco's sleeping form and clicked off the lamp on the bedside table.  
  
"I love you, Draco," he whispered, snuggling up against the blonde boy's back.  
  
---  
  
The summer improved greatly, in Draco's opinion, when he discovered the television. Though Dudley was glued to the television screen most of the time, Draco found the glowing box amazingly fascinating when Dudley was distracted elsewhere. While he found comedies quite entertaining (who didn't love watching people get themselves into ridiculous situations and still manage to say witty things along the way?), but he loved drama programs even more.  
  
"As if your own life isn't dramatic enough," joked Harry one afternoon, walking into the lounge and seeing Draco engrossed in a soap opera.  
  
"You've got to see this, Harry," said Draco. "Turns out _Peter_ is actually the father of Sylvia's baby, not Alexander! And Alexander, he'll probably turn to Marie for comfort, and you know what _she's_ like. . . ugh, the French. . ."  
  
"Malfoy, aren't _you_ French?" asked Harry.  
  
"Oh, yeah," said Draco.  
  
"Erm, why don't we turn this off? I could use some help drying the dishes," Harry said.  
  
Draco reluctantly turned off the television and followed Harry to the kitchen.  
  
When they were in the middle of having a splashing war, Dudley walked in.  
  
"I hate you, Harry," he said. "You're a freak."  
  
"Hear that?" laughed Draco, splashing Harry. "Even _he_ knows you're a freak!"  
  
"You're the freak, Malfoy," said Harry good-naturedly, flinging water at his face.   
  
Dudley grunted, angry that his comment hadn't bothered Harry.  
  
"Your mum and dad were freaks, too, that's what my daddy says," he said, grinning maliciously.  
  
Harry spun to face Dudley, shaking with anger. He was sick and tired of these comments, and too furious to speak.  
  
"Can't argue with me, can you?" said Dudley. "You know it as well as I do. They were nothing but nasty, worthless, common _freaks_."  
  
Draco spun around this time, looking quite menacing.  
  
"Say that again," he challenged. "I dare you."  
  
Dudley whimpered nervously and pondered. Finally, his face lit up with a thought.  
  
"What's wrong, pansy-arse Harry? You need your _boyfriend_ to defend you?" he cackled.  
  
Draco's protective side urgently punched his insecurities about Harry's feelings in the face. He put his arm around him.  
  
"Guess what, Dursley?" he said. "I _am_ Harry's boyfriend, and I don't like hearing you badmouth him or his parents. What do you have to say about that?"  
  
"Erm, well," stammered Dudley, backing up. "M-mum says only bad boys like other boys."  
  
"Really." said Draco, sounding bored. "You know what I said about telling your mum and dad things. I could make your life a waking nightmare, Dursley, and I'd have a clear conscience about it."  
  
Dudley kept backing up until he hit the wall, making a loud crashing sound.  
  
"What's all that racket about?" shouted Vernon, rumbling down the stairs.  
  
"Lets take a walk," Harry said briskly, leaving through the kitchen door. Draco followed, feeling nervous.  
  
"I really fucked things up," he thought. "Harry's aunt and uncle are going to know about us now."  
  
Harry turned up another street, and Draco took long strides to keep up.  
  
"He's probably furious," he assumed. "And I called him my boyfriend. Out loud, and not just in my head. Lord, am I humiliated."  
  
They reached a park, and Harry stopped.  
  
"Oh fuck, he's going to say it's over. He's going to leave me here and I'll have no one to go to. Nice job, Malfoy, nice job."  
  
Draco braced himself for the worst. When Harry turned around, however, he was smiling. He looked at Draco and began to laugh. Draco was confused.  
  
"What, he's laughing at me?" thought Draco, becoming a little angry.  
  
"Draco, you. . ." said Harry, catching his breath. "You were brilliant! Telling Dudley off like that. . . god. . ." He began to laugh again.   
  
"So you don't think he'll- tell on us?" said Draco cautiously.  
  
"After the way you threatened him?" Harry said. "No way!" He threw his arms around Draco, who smiled a little.  
  
"The look on his face was pretty amusing," he said.  
  
They walked back to the swings and sat down, laughing at the fact that Dudley had called Harry a 'pansy-arse.'  
  
Suddenly, Harry became quiet and serious.  
  
"Draco," he said. "You called me your boyfriend."  
  
"Oh shit," thought Draco, "here comes the big rejection." He blinked back the tears that were welling up in his eyes. "Malfoys never cry, Malfoys never cry, Malfoys never cry," he repeated to himself, wiping away the tear that was sliding down his cheek.  
  
"You've never called me that before," said Harry. Draco shook his head. "Well, I have something to say," Harry continued, staring at the late afternoon sky. "Don't interrupt."  
  
Draco took this oppertunity to pull himself together while Harry wasn't looking. There was no way he was going to let him see him cry and laugh about it with the weasel later.  
  
"I didn't know you felt that way," Harry began, looking at the ground. "I wasn't sure if, you know, you just fancied me, or what. I guess I was insecure, because Draco," he looked up, "You mean so much to me, and hearing you call yourself my boyfriend today. . . it was a real releif." He sighed. "Okay, I'm done now."  
  
When Harry stood and pulled Draco up into a hug, he decided that he'd never been so happy.  
  
"_You_ were worried?" said Draco. "You didn't need to be worried about my feelings, Potter, I lo- I really care about you a lot!"  
  
Draco was certainly not scared to tell Harry that he loved him, no.  
  
"I just need to wait for the right moment," thought Draco, because obviously, watching a beautiful sunset while holding eachother right after they'd become an official couple was _not_ the right time to tell his boyfriend that he loved him. Draco's mouth was about to be otherwise occupied.  
  
---  
  
After a very nice evening in the park, Harry and Draco walked back to Number 4, Privet Drive, hands intertwined. They walked to their bedroom, ready to go to sleep for the night, but a large black owl was tapping at the window.  
  
"I don't recognize that owl," said Harry. "Do you?"  
  
"No one would be sending me anything," said Draco. "It's probably for you."  
  
Harry opened the window and took the letter from the owl's leg.  
  
"No, it is for you, Draco," he said, handing it to him. Draco examined the letter, knitting his eyebrows. When he turned the envelope over, he saw something that make his heart nearly stop.  
  
"Harry, it has a Malfoy seal on it, my father's seal. . ." he said. "You read it, I don't think I can. . ."  
  
Harry took the letter from Draco's shaking hand and opened it. The color drained from his face.  
  
"Draco," he read, "You are a foolish boy. I broke out of Azkaban last time, did you think that they'd be able to keep me here again? You have betrayed me, and you're no son of mine. . ." Harry began to read more softly. "I know where you are Draco, and I know that you're with Potter in a filthy muggle town. What a level for Lucius Malfoy's son to have fallen to. I will have revenge, Draco. I won't let you soil the Malfoy name like this. Be prepared to die, Draco. I will not give up. . . Lucius Malfoy."  
  
Draco felt ill. He knew that his father was insane and that he wouldn't hesitate to kill him.  
  
"Harry, we need to owl Dumbledore," said Draco.  
  
"No," said Harry. "No, he won't be able to do anything. I killed Voldemort, Draco, I can kill Lucius Malfoy. I won't let anything bad happen to you, ever."  
  
"Okay," said Draco, unsure.   
  
They got into bed and turned off the light.  
  
"I'm protecting you, Draco," said Harry, holding him tight. Draco wanted to be assured by these words, but he felt Harry's body trembling as much as his own was. 


	6. Wonderwall

Atuanya- AtuanyaUnexpected@yahoo.com  
  
Pairing- Harry/Draco  
  
Rating- PG 13. WARNING: OOTP spoilers.  
  
Notes- Just so you know, when the text is //surrounded by backslashes//, it's a flashback. Most of the chapter is in flashback. FINALLY, I've finished this chapter! I feel that I should warn you about the reasons it took so long. First, go grab another bowl of popcorn, this is very long. Secondly, It's unlike the others in this story in that it's quite angsty. It has it's humorous moments (meet Drunk!Draco), but it's overall much darker than the previous chapters (and future chapters, if they come out as I planned). I haven't solved the cliffhanger with Lucius, yet, either. Sorry! This is the moment you've been waiting for, though- the second part of the chapter explains how Harry and Draco got together. Aww. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, I worked very hard on it! 3   
  
Disclaimer- J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and all of these characters and settings. I'm just playing with them and I'm not making any money for it. The song "Wonderwall" was written and performed by Oasis. It doesn't have too much to do with the chapter, but it was my inspiration for the relationship.  
  
Feedback- Email me!  
  
Chapter 6- Wonderwall  
  
//When Harry woke up for what seemed like the millionth time that summer with his scar hurting, he decided that it was time to do something about it. He was tired of studying defense tactics he already knew, tired of hearing about Death Eaters escaping from Azkaban, and tired of waiting for Voldemort to come get him.  
  
Thanks to his subscription to the Daily Prophet, he knew that the Death Eaters had been meeting frequently lately. His friends in the Order told him that they were meeting in the basement of an abandoned shop in Knockturn Alley. Harry's nightmares showed him where the shop was, and that they were meeting tonight.   
  
"July 16th," he muttered. "It's initiation night. I may as well put a stop to them before their numbers grow."  
  
Tonight was as good a night as any, he thought in the epitome of crazy decisions. He got up and opened Hedwig's cage.  
  
"If I don't come back," Harry said to his owl, letting her outside through the window, "go live with Hermione."  
  
He snuck down the creaky stairs at his aunt and uncle's house and retrieved his wand and his broom from the cupboard.   
  
Harry was too resigned to his goal to be nervous as he flew off. He'd never felt so determined or in control. He knew that he was clearly about to do the right thing, that this couldn't wait anymore. He was going to die tonight or Voldemort was, no more fucking around.  
  
After flying for several hours, Harry began to feel weary. He was having trouble keeping track of where he was in the dark, and he decided to rest until dawn before setting off again. He flew around for a while until he found a clearing in a small wooded area that he could land in. Just as he was drifting off to sleep, he was startled by the sound of a shotgun.  
  
"Get off my property, bloody dosser!" shouted an old man, pointing his rifle at Harry. He stood up and took his broom, but then realized that the man was probably a muggle and shouldn't see him fly. He cursed as he ran off to get out of the man's sight.  
  
"What a nutter," he thought.   
  
Harry realized as he found the nearest sidewalk that he had no idea where he was. Being the king of impulsive actions, however, Harry was not about to give up. He sat down and thought, studying his scuffed shoes. How was he going to find his way to Knockturn Alley? There were too many muggles around for him to get back on his broom, and there weren't any fireplaces around that were connected to the Floo network, not that he knew of, anyway. He didn't know how to apparate.   
  
"I'm stranded," he said to himself.  
  
A moment later, a large purple bus pulled up to the curb.  
  
"The knight bus!" he thought, relieved. "How could I have forgotten?"  
  
"'Arry Potter, What are you doing at this hour?" said Stan Shunpike, the conductor, when Harry had boarded the bus. "Should we take you back to Privet Drive?"  
  
Harry considered this for a moment. Going back to Privet Drive would mean more of the same. Hearing that Voldemort was torturing and killing muggles, worrying about people he cared for, and waiting to be able to take action. He didn't want this.  
  
"No," he said to Stan. "Take me to Knoc- erm, Diagon (he couldn't have Stan getting suspicious) Alley, please."  
  
"Alright," Stan said. "That'll be five sickles, please."  
  
Harry paid and sat in the back of the bus. He prepared to relax during the trip, but the bus was parked in front of The Leaky Cauldron before he knew it.  
  
He got off the bus and breathed in deeply, calming himself. This was the moment he'd been preparing for since he'd heard Voldemort's name.  
  
Harry went down a stone staircase and began to search for the shop he'd seen in his nightmare.  
  
He paused at a small dark building wedged between larger shops and looked in the window. The moonlight reflected off of hundreds of mirrors, lining the walls of the narrow shop.  
  
"This is it," he thought, opening the door as quietly as possible. As soon as his reflection hit the mirrors, ghosts appeared in them. Some stood in groups of two and three, others were alone, but they all looked frightened. The apparitions tugged at Harry's reflection's robes and screamed silently. Some were covered in blood, some looked shocked, some looked vaguely familiar, though Harry couldn't be bothered to stop and figure out how. The images disturbed him, but he had to concentrate on his mission. He kept walking to the back of the shop, his feet kicking up dust on the floor.  
  
Suddenly, the sight of one of the ghosts made Harry stop and stare.   
  
"Cedric?" he said. The image of Cedric Diggory was in the mirror, studying him with sad eyes. "yroggiD cirdeC" read the tag above the glass.   
  
"I'll bet everyone they killed is trapped in these mirrors," Harry thought, looking around. A thought hit him suddenly and he began frantically searching the store.  
  
Finally, he found the one of the mirrors he was looking for.  
  
"rettoP yliL" was the inscription. Harry stood transfixed, watching his parents and Sirius talking in the mirror. Sirius took notice of Harry's presence first, and greeted him with surprised joy. His parents had similar reactions. They knew why Harry was there, and looked worried but gave their son encouraging smiles. Harry felt ready to take on Voldemort without a doubt. He wanted to stay longer with his parents and godfather, but he knew he had to walk on. When Harry walked by the next mirror, however, he saw that Sirius had followed him. The inhabitant of the mirror Sirius had invaded looked slightly disturbed, but Sirius ignored her and motioned for Harry to follow him. He jumped through several tall mirrors and a small broken one that had "rettoP yrraH" engraved on it. He finally showed up in an empty mirror in the very back of the shop and pointed up.  
  
Harry looked up to where Sirius was directing and gaped. The small mirror was angled on the ceiling so that Harry could see down a straight wooden staircase like the one he saw in his dream. The Death Eaters were having a meeting in the basement. Harry stepped to the side to observe. When he looked back to thank Sirius, he'd already left. Downstairs, Voldemort was sitting on a golden chair that resembled a throne. A line of about ten people in hooded black cloaks stood beside him. The rest of the Death Eaters stood back, watching.  
  
"Pansy Parkinson," hissed Voldemort. The first of the figures standing behind the throne stepped forward. Harry realized from her small stature and awkward walk that this was indeed Pansy, and studying the line, he picked out the usual suspects. Huge, towering Crabbe and Goyle, broad-shouldered Zabini, and of course among the crowd was tall, thin Draco Malfoy. Harry had expected this fate for all of them. Two of the cloaked men came forward. One held Pansy still and the other rolled up her sleeve. She didn't resist, but Harry saw that she was shaking violently. Voldemort pointed his wand at her exposed arm and muttered a spell that Harry had never heard before. The dark mark appeared on Pansy's arm, first glowing orange and then red hot. A high pitched scream escaped her mouth as the mark burned into her arm, but the men holding her kept her from falling down. After the scar had cooled and Pansy recovered somewhat, Voldemort cleared his throat.  
  
"Pansy Parkinson, do you swear to give your life to the Blood Cause?" Voldemort said.   
  
"I swear," said Pansy, standing up straight.  
  
"Do you oppose all of those with filth in their blood, and those who support the light?" he asked.  
  
"I swear."  
  
"And will you forever remain a Death Eater?" Voldemort asked.  
  
"I swear," said Pansy.   
  
Pansy was now a Death Eater, and Harry watched and waited while several other young Death Eaters were initiated. (Crabbe, he noticed, had the smallest tolerance for pain). Harry needed to wait for the right moment, when Voldemort was not distracted and Harry could face him with courage to avenge the deaths of so many of the people he loved.  
  
"Draco Malfoy," called Voldemort, and the cloaked figure Harry'd picked out as Malfoy walked gracefully to the throne, shoulders held high. Before anyone could step forward to hold Draco still, he rolled up his own sleeve.  
  
"Figures," thought Harry. "This is probably the proudest day of his life."  
  
"I'm not afraid of you," Draco growled quietly.  
  
"What did you say, Malfoy?" roared Voldemort. Draco said nothing, and Voldemort did the spell to put the Dark Mark on his arm.  
  
Draco did not shout or fall over in pain as his flesh burned. The impossibly vibrant red of the burning mark looked vulgar on Draco's white skin, but his muscles only tensed, fighting the urge to fall victim to the pain. The scar cooled and Draco covered it with his sleeve.  
  
"Draco Malfoy, do you swear to give your life to the Blood Cause?" said Voldemort.  
  
Draco didn't answer for a long time.   
  
"Do you swear to give your life to the Blood Cause?" Voldemort asked, growing angry.  
  
"No," said Draco.  
  
Voldemort stood, towering over Draco.   
  
"Are you rejecting the cause, Malfoy?" he asked, sounding menacing.   
  
"Yes," gulped Draco, "I am. I'm here only because Lucius Malfoy forced me to be."  
  
Voldemort pushed Draco to the ground, his red eyes full of rage.   
  
"Crucio!" he roared, pointing his wand at Draco.  
  
The boy thrashed on the ground, his body contorted at odd angles. He struggled, but did not cry out. Harry sat glued to his spot, horrified.  
  
"You can kill me, too," he gasped, "but I assure you that Potter is going to defeat you, someday."  
  
"You're correct about one thing, I will kill you," Voldemort said. Behind Harry, an engraving appeared on the mirror that Sirius had stood in earlier. "yoflaM ocarD," it said.  
  
"But about Harry Potter," Voldemort laughed, "you're wrong. Potter has no idea what's coming to him." Several Death Eaters laughed, and Voldemort raised his wand at Draco again. Harry decided that this was his moment.  
  
"I've come to you, Voldemort," Harry spat as he descended the stairs.  
  
Voldemort looked up at Harry, momentarily shocked. Then he grinned.  
  
"Oh, so you've decided to make things easier on me, Potter," he said. "Here by yourself? How did you expect to take on all of us?" He asked.  
  
Harry refused to be intimidated.  
  
"You're all cowards," he said, "and nothing without your leader."   
  
Harry walked over to the throne, raised his wand, and pointed it at Voldemort's heart.   
  
"Avada Kedavra!" he shouted. A green light filled the basement, and when it had cleared, Voldemort was lying dead on the ground. Harry quickly got over his surprise that it had worked and turned around. As he'd expected, most of the Death Eaters fled when they saw that he'd killed Voldemort. Several remained, however, panic-stricken. One did a spell to make Voldemort's body vanish. He recognized the voice to be that of Bellatrix Lestrange.  
  
"Still not afraid of me?" Harry said. "This is for Sirius!" He used the killing curse on Bellatrix and then turned around and killed the remaining group fleeing Death Eaters.   
  
Then he turned back to Draco, who was passed out on the ground.   
  
"I never expected that, Malfoy," he said quietly, using a wingardium leviosa charm to lift him up.  
  
Harry walked beside the levitated Draco out of the shop (where the images in the mirrors were gone, Harry noted with relief), and to the Leaky Cauldron, where he made sure that Tom would give Draco a room.  
  
"The Dursleys will be wanting breakfast in a few hours," thought Harry as he stood by the street. He stuck out his hand to call the Knight Bus, feeling sick to his stomach.//  
  
---  
  
Draco's eyes opened wide when a shaking Harry woke him. Harry looked pale and frightened.  
  
"I had the nightmare again," said Harry, his breathing heavy. "The flashback to the night I killed Voldemort."  
  
"That's over, Harry," said Draco reassuringly, stroking his boyfriend's sweaty cheek. "Voldemort's been dead for a long time now."  
  
Draco watched Harry until his breathing grew deep and slow and even again. When he was sure that Harry was sleeping peacefully, he lay back and reflected what that evening almost a year before had been like for him.  
  
//Draco stood waiting for his initiation, mentally preparing himself for what he was about to do. Voldemort had killed Narcissa Malfoy five days earlier, and if Draco had to die the same way his mother had, he was willing, if it meant that he didn't have to pledge his allegiance to the Dark Lord. Narcissa had been the only person to ever truly care about Draco, and he wasn't about to join the army of the man who killed her.  
  
The initiations seemed to take hours. It was almost surreal for Draco to watch the children he'd grown up playing alongside become Death Eaters. This was an inevitability for all of them, the moment that their young lives had lead up to. It had always seemed to Draco, however, like something in the far future. He never imagined that the time would actually arrive. And now here they were. The people that Draco had always thought of as fellow future Death Eaters were becoming _actual Death Eaters_. Crabbe still had a low tolerance for pain, the same stupid way of standing, the same loud voice. Something was different about him now that he had the mark, however, something that Draco couldn't understand. Zabini was still the same guy, but Draco couldn't think of him as a peer or classmate anymore. He was something different, something evil, something to be respected in some twisted way.   
  
Draco took a deep breath when his name was called.   
  
"My mother is dead, my father hates me, and I have nothing to lose," he thought. He walked without shame to stand in front of Voldemort.  
  
"It's funny," thought Draco, his mind wandering as the dark mark was burned on his arm. "No one else resisted. They're brainwashed, and I used to be one of them." He almost laughed out loud as he was pushed down. "I'm the only one who escaped it," he thought. "They're about to kill me, but they'll never be as free as I am."  
  
The Cruciatus Curse was the most intense pain that Draco had ever experienced. The burning pain he'd just felt while having his arm branded with the Dark Mark was now all over his body, and it burned deeper, down to his bones. He didn't have control of his muscles any longer, he felt his eyes rolling and his body twitching, and when he tried to stop his limbs from flailing it only hurt more. The funniest thing yet to Draco was that when he tried to distract himself from the pain by letting his mind wander, all he could think of was Harry Potter. Potter, with his stupid Gryffindor courage and lightning-bolt scar, his stupid temper, his stupid passion.   
  
"Potter's going to kill this guy someday and I'll have died for naught," thought Draco, amused. "But I didn't live for much, either, so it doesn't matter."  
  
Suddenly the pain stopped and Draco's muscles went limp. An overwhelming exhaustion coursed through his body. He wanted to laugh out loud for the absurdity of everything, but he was too tired. He muttered something, he wasn't really sure what, and then he saw Harry come downstairs. Potter! Potter's messy black hair and angry expression. Potter was Draco's hero like he was always supposed to be, and it was hilarious. That was the last thing Draco remembered thinking before he passed out.  
  
The next day Draco woke up in a room at the Leaky Cauldron, not remembering why he was there at first. When he looked in the mirror and saw that he was still wearing the heavy black cloak, however, his memories rushed back. He rolled back his sleeve and studied the Dark Mark burned on his arm. It was still sore from the previous night, but it was like a bruise– Draco couldn't resist prodding it. When he did, he quickly drew his finger back with a curse. The scar was still hot to the touch.  
  
"I'm not just free," thought Draco with a small laugh, "I'm also very much alive, thanks to Potter."  
  
He didn't have much. He was still rich, certainly, but he didn't know how to deal with that yet. With him he had only one set of robes and a school uniform, and in Gringott's he had the money he had inherited from his mother, several more uniforms, and a set of dress robes. The rest of his belongings were at Malfoy Manor, and if Lucius was there as Draco suspected, chances were he wasn't getting his things back. Narcissa had owned most of the family's money, and Lucius owned the house. He'd probably have to sell Draco's things in order to be able to keep the Manor. Draco was suddenly very glad that his mother had always advised him to keep a few necessary objects in his vault at Gringott's. He had no place to live, he realized, so he'd have to save his money so that he could buy himself a home after the school year.  
  
Draco sighed. These thoughts were making him weary.   
  
"Voldemort is dead!" he thought. "I should be out celebrating with the rest of the wizarding world!"  
  
He splashed some water on his face and went downstairs. To his dismay, no one was celebrating. A few people looked up from their Daily Prophets and glared at him, but that was the height of activity in the pub.  
  
Draco supposed that the hostility towards him was to be expected. He'd come into the pub in full Death Eater attire the night before, after all. Besides, people always tended to glare at Draco because he was so dashingly handsome, and they were jealous. Why these people weren't celebrating the end of the war, though, Draco didn't know.  
  
"Where's the party?" asked Draco. "Harry Potter killed the Dark Lord last night!"  
  
"Read the paper a little more carefully, son," said a middle-aged wizard. "He says he did, but he refuses to give details. They didn't find You-Know-Who's body, just those of a few known Death Eaters. The Ministry is doubting that he killed him, and so do I. You-Know-Who is still probably out there somewhere."  
  
"They doubted Potter last year, too," said Draco, glaring at the man. "But he was telling the truth."  
  
"Look kid, the fact that You-Know-Who came back later that year doesn't mean that Potter didn't make his whole story up. I have a hard time believing that he was back a year before he even did anything," said the wizard.  
  
"He was telling the truth then, and he's telling the truth now," said Draco.  
  
"He won't even say what happened! I'm having trouble buying it. You don't even know what you're talking about," said the man.  
  
"Believe me, I do," said Draco. He turned to Tom. "I'll be needing that room for the remainder of the summer. Could you please reserve it under my name? Draco Malfoy."  
  
"Malfoy?" asked the man.  
  
"You heard me," growled Draco, going back upstairs.  
  
Draco spent the rest of the summer mostly keeping to himself. The people in the Leaky Cauldron all thought that he was a Death Eater and consequently made a point of talking to him as little as possible. He didn't care. There was still a controversy over whether Voldemort was dead, and Draco didn't really feel like arguing with anyone. Besides, he had enough to think about.   
  
He thought about his mother. He thought about his life. He thought about what the fuck was going to happen to him, and, strangely enough, Draco thought about Harry. He couldn't stop thinking about that moment when Harry had appeared to kill Voldemort. How had he done it, how had he known? As much as Draco had always hated Harry, he was amazed by his heroism.  
  
After a few weeks, school started, and Draco found himself without a social identity. The Slytherins shunned him for turning away from their cause, and the other houses weren't ready to accept him. Draco spent his mealtimes alone, sitting at the far end of the Slytherin table and listening to the nearby Ravenclaws gossip about what had happened over the summer with Voldemort.  
  
It seemed like everyone in the wizarding world was on Harry's case about Voldemort. His friends and Dumbledore pressed him to give them the details about what happened. Some people criticized him for being irresponsible and selfish. Others thought he was lying.  
  
"Potter just needs attention, as usual," Draco heard a Ravenclaw say one day at dinner. He snorted. These people were ignorant. He knew better than they did, he knew what Potter had really done. He scanned the Great Hall for the messy-haired Gryffindor, but didn't see him.  
  
"He must eat somewhere else," thought Draco, as a Slytherin-launched carrot hit him on the temple. "But who can blame him?"  
  
He noticed over several days that Harry was never in the Great Hall.  
  
"Where do you eat, Potter?" Draco asked one day after double potions. "I never see you in the Great Hall with the weasel anymore."  
  
Harry studied him strangely.  
  
"Making fun of me because I have no friends, Malfoy?" he said. "That's low, even for you."  
  
"Surely you've noticed," said Draco, "I don't have any friends anymore, either."  
  
"No, I haven't," said Harry, glaring, "because I don't care. I don't give a flying fuck about your social life and I don't care about you!"  
  
"You don't care about me? It seemed quite a lot like you did this summer," said Draco.  
  
A few third year girls who were walking by giggled at Draco's statement, and both boys blushed.  
  
"Why should I care about someone who's constantly antagonized me since we were just little boys? Someone who calls my best friend a mudblood? I wasn't there to save you," said Harry, "I was there to kill Voldemort. You just happened to be lucky."  
  
"And you took me and got a room at the Leaky Cauldron," said Draco.  
  
This time it was Cho Chang and her friends walking by to giggle at the somewhat sexual connotation of Draco's statement. They blushed again.  
  
"You were passed out on the floor," said Harry, his voice softening. "I couldn't just leave you there."  
  
"You could have," said Draco, "but you didn't. You care about everyone, Potter, even that half-giant Hagrid."  
  
Harry looked angry, and Draco was surprised. It was supposed to be a compliment.  
  
"Damnit, Malfoy!" Harry said. "You always do that! Just because you're so fucking attractive, you can't go around acting like such a git all the time!"  
  
For the first time in his young life, Draco didn't have a witty comment. He just stood, mouth agape, staring at the very red-faced Harry Potter.  
  
"I eat in the library," said Harry, turning to walk away. "Let's all laugh at socially inept Harry Potter."  
  
Draco was not yet over his shock.   
  
"Attractive?" he thought. "Potter thinks I'm. . . attractive?"  
  
A grin spread across Draco's face. He was rather looking forward to dinner that evening.   
  
Four hours later, when Draco had properly groomed himself, he met Harry in the library.  
  
"I guess this is what I get for telling you that I take my meals here," Harry said as Draco sat down beside him. "I left the Great Hall to get away from the critical masses, but they follow me."  
  
"I am not the critical masses," said Draco indignantly. "I am Draco Malfoy!"  
  
"Yes, you certainly are," said Harry. Draco didn't know what he meant by that, so he changed the subject.  
  
"So, what kind of culinary delights are to be found in the library?" he asked.  
  
"Dobby should be bringing me something soon, but he won't be expecting you. . ." said Harry.  
  
"Dobby?!" interrupted Draco. "I remember we had a house elf called Dobby. He was really a strange little thing, always rebelling against our orders. . . I don't know what happened to him."  
  
Harry laughed.   
  
"Your father never told you?" he said. "Dobby tried to save my life a few years ago, so I freed him."  
  
"No," said Draco. "He. . ."  
  
Just then, Dobby walked in carrying a platter of food.   
  
"Dobby hopes that Harry Potter is hungry, sir," said Dobby, setting the plate in front of Harry. "Or that he can share with. . ."  
  
Dobby looked over at Draco and his eyes became even more impossibly large. He quickly turned and fled.  
  
"Looks like he remembers you quite fondly," said Harry sarcastically.  
  
The boys sat in silence as Draco helped himself to Harry's food and took a drink out of his mug. Harry looked pensive.  
  
"Why did you resist Voldemort?" he said finally.  
  
Draco nearly choked.  
  
"May I commend you on the wonderful choice of dinner conversation, Potter?" Draco remarked icily.  
  
Harry just fixed his gaze on him, and he looked down.  
  
"He smelled horrible," said Draco sarcastically, taking another big gulp of Harry's drink.  
  
Harry looked at him oddly, but didn't press the issue. There were several minutes of silence before Draco laughed.  
  
"My father's face must have been hilarious when you freed the house elf," he said.  
  
"It was pretty amusing," said Harry. "You're not, erm. . . angry about it?"  
  
"Good lord, no," said Draco. "We had plenty of house elves, and I hate my father."  
  
"You do? I never got that impression," said Harry.  
  
"He bought me things," said Draco coolly, "but he was an emotionless bastard. He didn't even cry when my mother died."  
  
Harry looked shocked as he sat, thinking.  
  
"I, erm, well that night that Voldemort died, I. . . I killed some Death Eaters," said Harry. "Did I, erm. . ."  
  
"Potter, If you'd killed my mother we wouldn't be sitting here having this conversation," said Draco darkly. He took three large gulps of pumpkin juice. "The Dark Lord killed her."  
  
"So that was why you resisted him?" said Harry.  
  
"That and the fact that he was a hypocrite," said Draco. He took a drink and hiccupped. "Did you know that he was half-blood?"  
  
"I was aware," said Harry, with a note of amusement in his voice.  
  
"And I had to get out of that family!" Draco said. "With Mum gone, I knew Lucius would take over my life. I was supposed to marry Pansy after graduation, can you believe it? That disgusting cow! If he'd arranged for me to be with Marcus Flint, maybe, that'd be okay. That bloke had a nice arse. I guess I wouldn't be able to produce a Malfoy heir with him, though, would I?" Draco snorted. "I don't know why I'm telling you all of this, Potter," he slurred, taking another drink. "You know, this pumpkin juice tastes funny. Did that house elf put something in it, do you think?"  
  
"Yeah," said Harry, repressing his laughter. "Firewhiskey. It tends to keep the nightmares away. You're completely smashed, Malfoy, and you just outed yourself."  
  
"Oh, I am not," said Draco, loudly enough for Madam Pince to shush him. "If I were drunk, would I be able to. . . able to. . . What, Potter, why are you laughing at me? Is it because I'm a queer? Because I wanted to bed Marcus Flint? You know, it's okay to be gay!"  
  
"I know Malfoy, I am gay," said Harry. "Well. . . I'm bi, I guess, because some girls. . ."  
  
"Harry fucking Potter is gay?" said Draco, laughing. "I can't believe it! The Gryffindor golden boy. . . The action man!" he laughed harder. "Arse pirate," he hiccuped.  
  
"I'm starting to remember why I've always hated you so much," grumbled Harry.  
  
"And that's why you can't wait to see me here tomorrow, right?" Draco said, still giggling.  
  
"Yeah, okay Draco," Harry said, weary but smiling.  
  
"You called me Draco," said the blond. "I have never heard you say my name. . . Harry!" He burst out laughing again, and stood up. "Harry! Harry! Harry, you have a nice arse, too," he said, and immediately passed out on the floor.  
  
"You're such a lightweight, Malfoy," muttered Harry, lifting Draco to a sitting position. When they had established that Draco was able to get back to his dorm, they parted, but Draco continued to meet Harry in the library for meals each day.  
  
Over the next few weeks, Harry and Draco grew to be close friends. Even Dobby got used to Draco's presence and began to bring him food, though Harry insisted that no firewhiskey be included. Though Draco was happy about his unlikely friendship with Harry, he was not entirely satisfied. Since Harry had admitted to being bisexual, Draco had other things on his mind. Harry had a very nice body, and Draco thought it a waste that it wasn't contributing to their current relationship. The problem was, he really liked Harry, as much as the two argued, and he didn't want to scare him off by suggesting anything.  
  
Meanwhile, Harry was beginning to reconcile with his friends, who still wished that he'd talk about what happened with Voldemort but cared and worried about him nonetheless. Draco was worried that he'd lose his chance with Harry.   
  
As Harry's social situation grew gradually better, Draco's grew rapidly worse. The other Slytherins were constantly picking on their ex-leader. They called him names and played pranks on him and made his life generally hellish. They even named Halloween "Get Malfoy Day." Over the course of the day, his potion was ruined by someone else, his clothes were stolen during quidditch practice, and his toothpaste was hexed to taste like sardines.  
  
When he went back to his dorm and found his bed covered in live spiders, he'd had enough.  
  
"I'm leaving!" he shouted, gathering his things. "And I'm never coming back. Draco Malfoy will not be treated this way!"  
  
Draco heard applause and cheers coming from the common room as he left, not knowing where to go. Angry tears welled in his eyes, but he blinked them back. He began to wander the corridors, brooding about his family and the possibility that he was losing his only friend. He found a winding stairwell and climbed it, no goal in mind. He found himself in a back corridor of the ground floor which presumably lead to the kitchen. He could go for some hot cocoa right now, he decided.  
  
Suddenly, Peeves whizzed by him. "Malfoy Bad Boy!" he taunted. "He's out to have a meeting with his Death Eaters!"  
  
"I'm not a Death Eater, Peeves, go away! I just want to get a cup of hot chocolate," said Draco.  
  
"If Bad Boy is not a Death Eater, why does Peevesy see the mark on his arm?" Peeves said. "Bad Boy's Death Eater friends will be angry if he doesn't go to their meeting. Oh, Bad Boy will lose his friends. . . Bad Boy will lose his friends. . ."   
  
Peeves began to sing, spinning and floating away.  
  
"I will not," muttered Draco. He'd completely forgotten about his cocoa, he was now trying to get into the kitchen for a different reason.  
  
"Dobby!" he shouted, rapping at the painting that presumably marked the kitchen's entrance. "Dobby, I need to know where the Gryffindor dorms are, I need to talk to Harry. . ."  
  
No sooner than Draco had mentioned Harry's name, Dobby threw the door open.  
  
"Draco Malfoy needs to talk to Harry Potter, sir?" said Dobby.  
  
"Yes, and it's important," said Draco.   
  
"Is Harry Potter in danger? Dobby must save Harry Potter!" Dobby shouted.  
  
"Shh, no," said Draco. "He's not in any danger, I just want to. . . talk to him."  
  
"Does Draco Malfoy. . . _love_ Harry Potter, sir?" Dobby asked, eyes wide.  
  
"Well I. . . I. . . I can't talk to _you_ about this!" said Draco, annoyed. Stupid house elf.  
  
Dobby sighed. "Does Draco Malfoy promise to take good care of his Harry Potter, sir?" he said solemnly.  
  
"Of course," said Draco.  
  
"Dobby cleans the upper floors, so Dobby knows the passwords. The Gryffindor rooms are in the east tower," said Dobby. "Draco Malfoy must go to the seventh floor and find the portrait of the lady in the pink dress. The password is 'Godric's sword.' The boys' dormitories are on the stairway to the left, and Harry Potter's is at the top of the stairs."  
  
"The top of the tower," repeated Draco, feeling winded just thinking about it.  
  
"It is for Harry Potter, sir," said Dobby.  
  
"Right, for Harry," said Draco, turning to leave.  
  
"Draco Malfoy must practice safe sex, sir!" Dobby called after him.  
  
Draco tripped, but then got up and kept walking until he found the east staircase.   
  
"No wonder Harry's in such great shape, thought Draco, trudging up the stairs. He finally reached the portrait, feeling quite winded. The fat lady looked angry that Draco would wake her so late, but she swung open when Draco said the password.   
  
He ran to the top of the left staircase and burst into the dorm room. He was immediately able to spot Harry's bed because his round glasses were sitting on the night table. Draco pulled open the bed curtains and woke Harry quietly.  
  
Harry's eyes opened and he blinked with surprise.  
  
"Is this. . . one of those dreams?" Harry asked.  
  
"No, said Draco, winded. "I came because I need to sleep here, there are spiders in my bed, and. . ." suddenly, Harry's question hit him. "Did you say you have dreams about me, Potter?"  
  
"I, erm, well, I have flashback to this summer," said Harry, embarrassed. "And since you were there, you're in them. . ." he paused. "Spiders in your bed?"  
  
Draco nodded, pouting.  
  
"They're kind of icky," he said.  
  
Harry sighed and rolled his eyes, but then he moved over and pushed the covers back. Draco gratefully crawled into bed.  
  
"There's something I want to talk to you about, Potter," Draco said softly, several minutes later. Harry, however, didn't answer. He was already asleep. "Well that's helpful," he said, laying back.  
  
Sometime later, Draco woke to the sound of his own name.  
  
"Draco. . . mmm, Draco, that's. . ." Harry said, breathing heavily. "I really rather like that leather outfit. Oh, that's the spot, yeah. . ."  
  
Draco blinked for a moment, confused, and then he realized what was going on.  
  
He rolled on top of him.  
  
"Harry," he said into his ear, smiling cruelly. The Gryffindor woke with a start. "I thought you said you didn't have dreams about me?"  
  
"I never denied it," he said sleepily, blushing a bit.  
  
"Well," said Draco, flashing his Draco Malfoy Sexy Smile (which he had practiced in the mirror for many hours), "You aren't dreaming anymore."  
  
He leaned down to kiss Harry, but missed his mouth and ended up licking his cheek.  
  
"Where'd you learn to kiss, Malfoy? A kneazle?" Harry asked, laughing.  
  
Before Draco could respond with an equally witty retort, Harry had pulled him down and kissed his lips. It was not, to Draco, a perfect fairytale or the defining moment of his life. He did, however, feel happy for the first time in a long while, and he felt right and complete.  
  
When he felt Harry's erection grinding into his thigh, he forgot about happy, right and complete, and he really just felt incredibly horny.//  
  
Draco rolled over in bed and smiled, remembering. He and Harry had been through a lot since then, and Draco suddenly felt much more secure about the situation with his father. Harry would come through, as usual. Draco drifted into a deep sleep, feeling much safer. 


	7. Duddy's Birthday

Atuanya- AtuanyaUnexpected@yahoo.com  
  
Pairing- Harry/Draco  
  
Rating- R for language, smut, and suggestions of m/m sex. Sorry to disappoint, but I didn't want it to be NC-17. Always watch for spoilers, okay? You've been warned.  
  
Notes- Sorry I haven't posted in so long! I found this chapter difficult to write for some reason. I don't really like it. It's basically extra-smutty fluff. _Long_ extra-smutty fluff. I hope that you enjoy it, at least. It's the second to last chapter, so stay tuned.  
  
Disclaimer- J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and all of these characters and settings. I'm just playing with them and I'm not making any money for it.  
  
Feedback- Email me!  
  
Chapter 7- Duddy's Birthday  
  
A week passed and Draco heard nothing from his father. Surprisingly, though, he wasn't very concerned. Harry had also had a change in mind, however, and had been very on edge since his nightmare. Each night he locked the bedroom window and door, and he kept his invisibility cloak nearby in case he needed to throw it over Draco in a hurry.  
  
"If you're so worried, why don't we just owl Headmaster Dumbledore?" said Draco calmly one night as Harry checked the window for the third time.  
  
"Yeah, and then he can make a speech and award lots of house points and we'll all be featured in the Daily Prophet," said Harry bitterly. "Great idea." he crossed the room and sat on his bed.  
  
Draco studied him for a moment.  
  
"It's strange to see you like this," he said, sitting down next to Harry. "The Harry Potter I've known since I was eleven has always been stubbornly- hell, annoyingly, even- loyal to Dumbledore."  
  
Harry sighed and looked up at the ceiling, pensive.  
  
"I just don't feel like dealing with anyone from the Order right now, alright?" he said.  
  
"Well," said Draco, smiling slyly. "What about a Death Eater?"  
  
"You're not a Death Eater," said Harry as Draco straddled his lap.  
  
"Are you sure?" Draco said, "Because I have some very evil intentions."  
  
"Not the same kind," said Harry as Draco sucked on his neck. He moaned. "I hope."  
  
"I suppose not," said Draco, pausing momentarily to shift his body forward and closing the gap between he and Harry, "I like mine better, anyway."  
  
"Yeah," said Harry, taking in a sharp gasp of air, "me too."  
  
Draco was enjoying the taste of Harry's skin and reaching for the zipper on his pants when he suddenly stopped, having the feeling that he was being watched.  
  
He ignored Harry's whimpers of protest and turned to look at the door. He saw Harry's cousin staring at them.  
  
"How long have you been standing there?" Draco said slowly, attempting to control his anger.  
  
"Erm, just came in," said a shaken Dudley. He blinked and regained his composure. "It's my _birthday_ tomorrow, and Mummy says Harry has to cook me breakfast." He snickered. "And you'll have to go to Mrs. Figg's house all day."  
  
Draco did his best to give Dudley a deadpan stare, but he was very anxious for this intruder to leave so that he could get back to undressing Harry.  
  
"Alright," he said finally. "Could you leave? We were busy."  
  
Dudley screwed up his face and stomped from the room and Draco got up to close the door.  
  
"I could get that lump to do anything I wanted," he laughed. "Shall we pick this up where we left off?"  
  
"Mrs. Figg is in _the Order_," said Harry, glumly. Draco ignored his horniness and sighed.  
  
"So I suppose you don't want to deal with her, either, then?" he said.  
  
Harry shook his head.  
  
"Dud-thing! Get back here!" said Draco, getting up and leaving the room. "Dud-dums!"  
  
"It's Dudley," said Harry's cousin. He and Draco were halfway down the hall, out of Harry's earshot.  
  
"Right," said Draco. He paused. "I don't really want to go to this Mrs. Figg woman's house tomorrow, do you think you could talk your parents into letting Harry and me stay here?"  
  
"Why should I?" said Dudley indignantly.  
  
Draco laughed.  
  
"Do you think I don't know how to manipulate you? You think I don't know how to deal with spoiled snotty brats?" he said. "Well guess what? I _am_ one. So don't think that I can't understand how your twisted little mind works. You're not making a _deal_ with me, I'm telling you what to do. Talk to your parents. Now."  
  
"Alright, then, I'll make sure you don't have to go," squeaked Dudley.  
  
"Good," said Draco, walking back to Harry's room.  
  
"We'll be staying here," said Draco, taking his seat next to Harry on the bed. Harry stared at him, surprised.  
  
"How did you arrange that?" he asked.  
  
"I had a little talk with your cousin," Draco said, smirking.  
  
"You're a bully," laughed Harry, shoving Draco down on the bed. He paused, licking his lips. "And it kind of turns me on."  
  
Draco thought back to the years when Harry had been the target of his bullying and laughed at the thought of the little Gryffindor getting off on it.  
  
"Did it always?" he asked. "Even when you were on the receiving end of it?"  
  
"Yeah, it turns me on to be on the receiving end," Harry said, looking as if he was trying not to smile, "But I like to be on top, sometimes, too."  
  
Draco smiled at how he'd corrupted Harry's mind.  
  
"We'll have time for both tomorrow, and believe me Potter, I'll fuck your brains out," he said, grinning evilly.  
  
"I'd say I'll fuck most of your internal organs out, but I guess that would be kind of disgusting," Harry laughed.  
  
"Believe me, if it includes me and fucking and it comes from your lips, it's never going to disgust me," said Draco.  
  
Harry paused, thinking.  
  
"Fuck you, Malfoy," he said, snickering.  
  
"I've never heard you say that before," Draco said sarcastically.  
  
"Yeah, I guess I bullied you as much as you bullied me," said Harry. "Ferret Boy."  
  
"Well, at least I was a pretty ferret," said Draco, sticking out his lower lip.  
  
Harry snorted. Draco glared.  
  
"Scar-head," he said.  
  
"Can't you be more original than that?" said Harry. Draco paused, thinking.  
  
"Pansy-arse!" he said.  
  
"Alright," joked Harry, "Do you want to fight?"  
  
"You're gay," said Draco, before being tackled on the bed. He felt his ears turn pink and struggled to get the upper hand, but Harry was holding him down quite firmly. He'd never been good at physical fighting, that's what Crabbe and Goyle were for. Harry was smaller than him, but apparently better at this kind of thing.  
  
Harry kissed him on the nose.  
  
"Oh, yes," said Draco. "I'm gay, too. Thanks for reminding me. Scar-head."  
  
Harry burst out laughing, and soon Draco had to laugh too.  
  
"We were really stupid kids," Harry said.  
  
"Do you think we subconsciously wanted each other the whole time?" Draco asked.  
  
"Well," said Harry, "that would explain why I got a hard-on nearly every time we fought."  
  
"And at quidditch matches," Draco said, remembering some very uncomfortable rides on his broomstick.  
  
"Yeah," laughed Harry. "Thank Merlin for quidditch robes."  
  
"I hated them," Draco said. "I wanted to see you in the quidditch _trousers_."  
  
Harry's face reddened.   
  
"Erm, yeah, they were tight, weren't they?" he said.  
  
"Extremely," Draco said.   
  
"Why don't we go to sleep on that note?" said Harry, yawning. "I wouldn't mind dreaming about quidditch trousers."  
  
"I wouldn't mind dreaming about your _firebolt_," Draco said, putting his arms around Harry as he turned off the light.  
  
---  
  
When Draco woke up, he was not happy. The light was too bright, and he was cold. He reached over to snuggle with Harry and warm up, but he found that he was in the bed alone.  
  
"No wonder I'm cold," he thought, wrapping Harry's blanket around him to get up and brush his teeth.  
  
As he left the bathroom, he heard Harry downstairs in the kitchen and wandered down.  
  
Harry was standing at the sink doing dishes. He looked back to smile at Draco.  
  
"About time," he said.  
  
"What? What time is it?" said Draco.  
  
"A bit after twelve," Harry said.  
  
"Why didn't you wake me up?" Draco said. "You're down here, what, doing dishes? While we have the house to ourselves?"  
  
"You looked peaceful," Harry said. "Why don't you go upstairs and start that bath we were talking about earlier this summer? I'll be upstairs when I'm finished here."  
  
Draco frowned.  
  
"Can I distract you from that?" he asked, getting up. He turned Harry around, pinned him to the counter, and kissed him.  
  
Harry pulled away for a moment, wrapping his arms around the shorts-clad Draco.   
  
"Apparently you can," he said.  
  
They were kissing quite passionately on the floor, Harry straddling Draco's legs, when the doorbell rang.  
  
"Ignore it," Draco hissed as Harry slid his hands under Draco's boxers and up his thighs.  
  
"Of course," Harry said. He took off his oversized gray tee shirt and tossed it out of their way.   
  
Draco pulled Harry down onto the floor next to him, and they lay on their sides, kissing. Draco's boxers were becoming restrictive, so he unbuttoned the front of them with one hand and took out his hardened cock. Harry reached down to touch it, and the doorbell rang again.  
  
"Fuck," Draco whispered, irritated.  
  
"Alright, I will," said Harry, grinning.  
  
"You should get the door, Potter," Draco said.  
  
"Yeah," sighed Harry, getting up and putting his glasses on.  
  
Draco whimpered, very much resenting the person who was currently at Harry's door. He wrapped himself in the blanket and watched from the kitchen as Harry opened the front door to an elderly woman in a housecoat and tartan slippers.  
  
"Erm, Hello, Harry," she said, evidently surprised by Harry's disheveled appearance and half-nakedness. "Your aunt wanted me to check up on you, but I didn't know you had a. . . guest."  
  
"Draco pulled the blanket tighter around his body and backed into the lounge.  
  
"Oh, it's alright, that's, erm, a friend from Hogwarts," Harry said, hastily putting on his shirt. Draco smiled in the other room, picturing Harry's blushing face. "Is that the Daily Prophet, Mrs. Figg? I cancelled my subscription during the annual Harry Potter smear campaign," he heard him say.  
  
"Yes, I thought I'd bring it over for you," the woman said. "There's an article about some boys in your year at school who were impersonating Death Eaters. Writing letters and things, pretending to be people like. . ." she lowered her voice, "Lucius Malfoy!"  
  
In his shock, Draco forgot that he was hiding and burst into the room.  
  
"Who impersonated Lucius Malfoy? Was it Zabini? I'll bet it was Zabini, he was always a nasty. . ."  
  
Draco suddenly noticed that Mrs. Figg was averting her eyes and Harry seemed to be shielding him from the view of the door.  
  
"Clothes, Dray," he said.   
  
Draco looked down and realized that he was rather scantily clad with Dark Mark showing, and went upstairs to get dressed.  
  
When he came back downstairs, Harry was sitting on the couch with Mrs. Figg, reading the article.  
  
"You know how we didn't owl Dumbledore, Draco?" said Harry.  
  
"Yes," Draco said.  
  
"Well it doesn't matter, he knew all along," Harry said, sounding amused. "Crabbe and Zabini were caught writing more letters and they told the ministry the whole story."  
  
"So they wrote that letter that was supposed to be from my father? Why didn't Dumbledore let us know?" Draco asked.  
  
"He knew Harry was angry at him," Mrs. Figg said. "He knew he probably wouldn't read a letter _he_ sent. Mundungus Fletcher was supposed to send one. What was that about your father?"   
  
"Lucius Malfoy is my father," Draco said. "So, we were safe the whole time?"  
  
"Oh, you're _Draco_!" squealed Mrs. Figg. "I didn't know you two were still together! I read about it in 'Witch Weekly' back in January! It was so cute, with pictures of you two holding hands and looking at each other all gooey-eyed. . ."   
  
"Yes, I remember the article, 'The Boyfriend of The Boy Who Lived,'" said Draco hastily. "My housemates beat me up for months over that. Back to the topic, my father really hasn't broken out of Azkaban?"  
  
"No," said Harry, looking up from the article. "We were safe the whole time."  
  
"Oh, of course," said Mrs. Figg. "Professor Dumbledore always has people looking out for Harry when he's here."  
  
"I should have known," Harry said. Draco prepared himself to hear a tirade about Dumbledore's thirst for publicity, but Harry surprised him by saying, "He really is always watching out for me. We were stupid not to write to him Draco, unbelievably stubborn."  
  
"Oh, yes, _we_ were," Draco said sarcastically, but he was glad to see Harry let go of a little of his bitterness.  
  
Mrs. Figg stayed for much of the afternoon, drinking tea and catching the boys up on current events in the wizarding world.  
  
Draco listened politely, but he was still grumpy that he and Harry had been interrupted earlier, and as soon as Mrs Figg left, Draco took the opportunity to jump on his boyfriend.  
  
"We're really had a lot of trouble finishing what we start lately," he said.  
  
"Aww, Draco," Harry said, kissing him on the forehead. "You'll just have to wait a few more minutes, I need to get these teacups washed out and put away."  
  
"Harry, it's already evening," Draco whined.  
  
"Go upstairs and get the bath ready, alright?" said Harry.  
  
Draco stomped upstairs angrily.  
  
"He's been avoiding me," he thought. "He doesn't even _want_ to have sex with me."  
  
He decided, as he turned on the water, that he would just take a shower and go to bed. He could take a hint.  
  
As Draco showered, he worried, and it did not end up being a short shower. He was ready to turn off the water almost a half an hour later when Harry came in.   
  
"What are you doing?" Harry said, peeking in through the shower curtain. "I thought you were going to start a bath."  
  
"As if you care," said Draco.   
  
"Well, I guess the bath isn't too important to me," said Harry, "we can. . ."   
  
"You don't want me," said Draco.  
  
"What?" said Harry. "Don't want. . ?" He stepped into the shower without taking his clothes off.  
  
"What are you talking about?" he said. "I want you."  
  
Draco stared at the intense look on Harry's face. Water was streaming through his hair and condensing on his glasses, and his soaked clothing was clinging to his body.  
  
"I want you to fuck me," Harry said.  
  
---  
  
Some time later, Harry and Draco emerged from a very long shower.   
  
"You may be an annoying little hero, Potter, but you're definitely a good shag," Draco drawled.   
  
"Shut up, Draco," Harry laughed. Suddenly, he looked alarmed. "How long were we in there?" he said.  
  
Draco smiled and stretched.  
  
"Quite a while," he said. "It's almost seven thirty."  
  
"I'll be right back!" said Harry quickly, pulling on his pants and running downstairs.  
  
Draco stood, confused, until he heard a crashing noise followed by a curse in the kitchen.  
  
"What are you _doing_, Potter?" he said as he descended the stairs, now wrapped in a towel.   
  
He saw that the kitchen table was set for two, including two nearly burned-down candlesticks and two bowls of soup that were certainly cold.  
  
"I guess I burned dinner," said Harry, who was taking some kind of blackened crisp out of the oven. "And I just broke a plate."  
  
"Well what in Merlin's name did you think we'd be doing up there, a quick race from the sink to the toilet and back?" Draco said.  
  
"Yes, Draco, that's what I thought," said Harry sarcastically, picking up the shards of glass from the floor. "I set the oven for ten minutes, thinking, 'Well, I'm sure Draco will want a rematch, so. . .'"  
  
"Ten minutes?" said Draco, feeling slightly insulted. "You know I have better stamina than _ten minutes_. You should have picked something that took longer to cook, instead of. . . whatever that is."  
  
"It doesn't matter, it's ruined anyway," Harry said.  
  
Draco looked around at the dimmed room.  
  
"What's all of this for, anyway?" he asked, irritated.  
  
"I just wanted it to be special," said Harry, glumly. "I wanted to tell you that. . . I was going to say. . ."  
  
"What?" said Draco.  
  
The corners of Harry's mouth twitched up a little, and he walked over to where Draco was standing.  
  
"I'll just say it now. I- I love you, Draco," he said.  
  
This was the moment Draco had been waiting for.  
  
"You know, Potter," he said, "you've made my life hell for as long as I can remember. When I was just a little kid, my father was always telling me the story of how you defeated the Dark Lord and how I'd have to show you that blood was more powerful than anything. 'You need to beat Harry Potter,' he was always telling me. And I hated him, Potter, and I hated you for it, I always hated you. . . but somehow, every time I looked at you and you were laughing with your friends, every time I saw you smile, I knew that nothing in the world would ever make me so happy. . . you know, I've loved you for as long as I can remember, even when I hated you."  
  
"If anyone else were to ever say that to me," said Harry, putting his arm around Draco, "I'd probably be offended."  
  
They laughed, and then Harry kissed Draco on the lips.  
  
"Sorry about dinner," Harry said, blushing.  
  
"I'm not really hungry, anyway," said Draco, whose mind was not on food.  
  
"You know what's still good, though?" Harry asked. He walked over to a cabinet next to the stove and pulled out a bottle of wine.  
  
"Hmm, nice," Draco said, smiling deviously. "And stealing it from the muggles, too. I guess I've influenced you, Harry."  
  
"Well, it's technically ours, actually," Harry said, blushing. "Fred and George sent it. Ron told them about us, and apparently they're a bit jealous of me, but, you know, happy for us and all."  
  
Draco laughed and took the bottle, popping out the cork and taking a swig. The last thing he remembers about the evening is saying, "You know, Harry, I could make the cupboard under the stairs a place you associate with much better memories than you do now." 


End file.
